The down side to reality is that it is often too real for many to stomach. Reality trades in fact, humanizing all involved. Rather than seven strangers living in a house who opt to turn off their politeness, it is the current state of affairs, existing independent of the ideas or contrived narratives which surround it. Once the thinly-veiled filters of media editing, public relations shields and pre-determined lines questioning are removed, live microphones coupled with high levels of emotion can make for a souring and awakening concoction.

When Cleveland Indians All-Star closer Chris Perez voiced his opinion with regard to the current league-worst attendance figures which represent the embarrassing lack of support -- in a self-proclaimed "Sports Town" -- for the first-place team for which he plays, he received plenty of support, but also plenty of criticism. No one knows the heart and mind of an athlete like the athlete him-or-herself. We all want in until we see or hear what lies beneath the long hair, "Firestarter" intros and vast array of fist pumps.

We shun the cliché factories who talk without saying anything – giving 110 percent, waiting for names to be called, just doing what the coach asks, and the occasional tip of the cap to God. We want our players to be people; in Cleveland, this extends a bit further to this blue-collar, lunch pail nomenclature which we proudly cling do despite the city having moved towards a working class comprised of medical practitioners, legal types and the public financial services sector. Perez, however, personifies the former. A fiery competitor who will not hesitate to scream comic book-style onomatopoeias in the face of opponents, his work ethic and mental make-up as a closer has making him one of the most successful at his craft over the past two seasons. A player of this ilk should be easy to root for and get behind in good times and bad. But not in Cleveland.

"[The fans] booed me against the Mariners when I had two guys on," Perez said on Saturday night. "It feels like I can't even give up a base runner without people booing me. It's even worse when there's only 5,000 in the stands, because then you can hear it. It p----s me off."

Previous WFNY Chris Perez coverage

As it should. Dubbed thin-skinned for his apparent unwillingness to sit silently while the vocal minority on Twitter casts vitriol and ill will upon him in moments of weakness (you know, because tweeting negative things at professional athletes makes one feel better about himself), Perez finally spoke his mind when it came to boos being lobbed in the direction of the player who is among the American League's best when it comes to closers – he's third in saves, owns a WHIP of 1.10 and his holding opponents to a batting average of 1.90; all of these marks in line with household-named closers like Jonathan Papelbon, and Craig Kimbrel while being better than AL Central arms like José Valverde. Yet boos rain down due to the mere presence of base-runners.

This isn't to say that paying fans do not have the right to voice displeasure. It's also not to say that Perez has not has his share of high blood pressure-inducing saves as this happens when one does not possess a world-class strikeout rate. Serving as a entirely ancillary debate, he may not even be the best closer on the roster with Vinnie Pestano and Nick Hagadone both faring well. But what is a home field advantage if the few laying claim to the home field opts to cast negativity rather than support? And then a Bronx Cheer once Perez gets out of the inning to only add fuel to Perez' already red-hot fire. The attendance woes can be blamed on a bevy of items, mid-western spring weather and local schools still being in session among them, but booing one of your own in the midst of another very successful season may be a new low for the city of Cleveland.

While most anticipated Perez to rescind his post-game words the morning after, the closer dug in even more, firming his stance without as much as drawing a line in the sand. Keeping things out of the clubhouse as to not be a distraction to the other 24 players who have all contributed to the team's present first-place standing, Perez displayed conviction at conviction's finest, saying that the lack of attendance is a "slap in the face" to a winning team.

"I'm not doing anything to bring extra attention to myself or distract from what the team's doing," Perez said on Sunday, the day after his initial assertion. "I don't have an ulterior motive. I'm here to win. I want to win here. I care. We all care. We want to win. But right now, we're winning for ourselves, basically.

"Thursday was the last straw for me, and Saturday night was the first time I'd spoken [to reporters] since then," Perez said. "I just didn't understand the booing when I hadn't even given up a run. I don't understand the negativity, in general. Why? We have a first-place team. How many teams in the country would want that right now?"

Perhaps this is the product of an advertising campaign which links the mid-90s team of near perfection to that of today's, perhaps it's merely years of frustration bottled up and lobbed at those playing as if they were medieval cannonballs.

Perez' words were not meant as a way to be traded, nor were they a lack of respect towards the Clevelanders who do buy team merchandise, come out to the park and help pay his salary. But respect, appreciation and praise are not hand-in-hand on a leisurely stroll. For the fans of a team which has not won a championship since 1948 to demand excellence from a player who makes a living playing a game often decided by fluke is egregious at best. For a town that opts for hand-wringing and excuse-hurling when free agents opt for greener pastures -- it's the system, its the owners! -- and one which could be in the hunt to acquire more talent once again this very summer, this incident potentially stands as the worst sales pitch in recent memory.

In an era where players are often guarded, surrounded by inner-circles ranking from business partners to hangers-on, Perez remains as the rare breath of fresh air in modern day professional sports. Always accessible, often affable, the Indians' closer will not hesitate to tell one exactly what he's feeling at any given moment. Based on some of the outcry which permeated social media outlets as well as comment fields, it appears that this transparency is only a benefit to the player when the words which pour out happen to be laced in fairy tale rather than the truth.